


Jim

by jaxxOnasty



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Demon Bucky Barnes, Drabble, M/M, My chest hurts, WWIII, demon james "rhodey" rhodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 01:39:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxxOnasty/pseuds/jaxxOnasty
Summary: James was amazed. "All this and that's the question you ask me?"-In which a demon named James searches for purpose.





	Jim

His mistake had been focusing on Steve Rogers.

The boy was frail, but determined. The best souls always were. So of course this was who James thought he was sent to collect. He was placed into the body of his closest friend, after all, and the sickly boy was just oh so dependant on his Bucky. It was just logical.

But soul collecting was a long game, even for one with James’ longevity, so it was foolish of him to think that this boy, this weak little thing that wouldn’t make it to thirty in a world where people barely made it to sixty, that this child was his purpose. Why invest time into something so simple? But James had been cocky and confident. And when Steve Rogers met Dr. Erksine, his confidence only grew.

Here was that weak thing, now tall and broad, with strength he didn’t even have to barter James for - he would figure out the purpose in no time. Soon he would know. So he followed passively, watching events unfold until he would be able to see when to step in, to see what he was placed there for because it was obviously for much more than Steve’s soul.

And just when he thought his moment would come, just when he thought he would get the climax he had been waiting years and years for, Steve stepped into the Hydra base, unstrapped him from the table he was practically dissected on and then absolutely no epiphany came.

Well, maybe one epiphany… Steve Rogers was not his purpose. Steve had achieved his own glory, his own strength through his beliefs and his faith and a righteousness that James could not bare to look at. There was no way he would get that soul, no way he could push that soul into something dark and ugly. No way he could twist it into a tool for the sake of chaos. James was disappointed, but he continued to follow, letting Steve lead him because even if the man wasn’t his purpose, he was still placed with him for a reason. So he waited.

Steve had proven himself enough to warrant a leadership role, no longer was he a circus act; he had the authority to handpick his team and control his own narrative. Of course he needed his Bucky at his side, so there James was, front row to everyone important in this war. Everyone included Howard Stark and as soon as James saw him he was struck -  he had meaning again and it was Howard Stark and Howard Stark’s ambition and Howard Stark’s legacy and how terrible James could make it all. It would be so terrible that James wanted to weep with joy.

Howard was easy enough to seduce. Whiskey and an alley behind a bar that hosted enough soldiers on leave that the employees didn’t bother looking back into it anymore, kisses that were mostly teeth and half-hearted protests, hands that bruised and pleasured all the same. At first, Howard was wide-eyed and boyish, eager to meet with Bucky and kiss Bucky and be Bucky’s. And then Howard was in love. And with love comes desperation.

The man was needy and James told him as much whenever he coerced the man into private moments, sometimes literally just seconds they had to hold each other and lick the flavor of forbidden fruit out of one another’s mouths.

He told Howard that he was weak. And it wasn’t a lie, Howard was weak. He was insecure and scared of failure. He was hungry for affection, touch starved no matter how many beds he had spread himself across. His mind was sharp, but James could tell that it would pickle well. So he’d get his Howie drunk and he’d push him against a wall and he’d clutch him close and whisper all the ways what they were doing was wrong and wrong and wrong until Howard was red in mortification but still begging for it.

It was not hard to make Howard hate himself.

But then James died.

He hated leaving things unfinished, but he was assured that he had planted a seed.

And like a tree, it took decades to reach up and out into something glorious.

Tony Stark was glorious. And now James was his Rhodey.

The long wait was not in vain; time was important, essential. All the years it took marinating Tony with his father’s own self loathing had most certainly paid off. Tony was tender for him. And so juicy.

James did not take him as a lover, he could see the boy wanted it. But no, Rhodey was an honorable one. He was the one that cut Tony off for the night, the one that tugged him away from others that wanted to take  _ his _ advantage, the one that hugged Tony because no one else ever would and the one Tony was scared of scaring away.

As if he could ever do such a thing.

Tony had no idea that he was a prize. Not even when he was finally old enough to take over his father’s company did he feel like he was worth anything and James couldn’t help but take pride in all the hard work he had put into Howard’s wretchedness. Especially when once he met Stane and basked in his toxicity.

Rhodey shouldn’t know how to get Tony’s weapons into places they shouldn’t be, but Stane certainly should. So James made sure that he did and he stoked those flames. Even after he tugged Tony from the wreckage that would have been his grave, even then he stoked the flames, whispering to Tony about how he couldn’t lose him, how they had to get back at the bastards that had stolen his weapons and tried to dirty his good name.

‘Merchant of Death’ was a beautiful title to see bold and red on the protest signs outside the doors for their hearings with congress. And though Tony didn’t seem to agree at the time, with his Rhodey by his side he would. And he did.

Now that Stane was in jail, shouldering the brunt of the blame, and Tony’s contracts with the government were not harmed despite the regulations placed to ease the public, James had Tony all to himself. He didn’t tell Tony that he was weak, just that he could be stronger.

He pushed and was pushed back, but he always won in the end. Tony always signed what defense contracts he asked him to. Tony always followed him into meetings with private contractors. Tony always nodded along to occupying neighboring countries. Hell, Tony designed the most perfect drones once he stopped thinking of the collateral damage.

No one was more grateful than James, so every once in awhile, Rhodey would sit too close to Tony, hug him for a hair too long, whisper that Tony was his favorite person, let the man soak in the almost, the nearly.

The day the third great war had begun, after Tony had watched his drone wipe out a little village called Gulmira and then rushed out the room in the pentagon where apparently sights like these were celebrated, James caught up with him, took him by the arm and stood in his space. He brushed the hair from his project’s face, cupped his cheek and smiled proudly. He said that the right thing had been done.

And it was then that they both knew what he was.

Tony was always smarter than Howard, could always see the ways people wanted to use him even if he tried to ignore it as he had with Stane. Tony was so clever. And quick. He looked at James with wide, watering eyes and he asked, “Did you ever love me, Jim?”

And James was amazed. “All this and that’s the question you ask me? The world is ending and it’s our fault and that’s what you want to know?” He laughed and laughed again at Tony’s flinch. Then he reached out to wrap his fingers around the other’s wrist, lifted it and kissed his knuckles appreciatively. “Anthony, you’ve fulfilled me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I don't even know either. I just had to write it.


End file.
